Chapter LXXXVIII: Act I: Scene 2. New York, towards the end of the summer of 1780 (19)

"_Don't_ mention them!--ugh! ugh!" (Here his majesty retched violently.) "I never tasted but one--that rascal Hippocrates!--smelt of asafoetida--ugh! ugh! ugh!--caught a wretched cold washing him in the Styx--and after all he gave me the cholera morbus."

"The--hiccup!--wretch!"--ejaculated Bon-Bon--"the--hic-cup!--abortion of a pill-box!"--and the philosopher dropped a tear.

"After all"--continued the visiter--"after all, if a dev-- if a gentleman wishes to _live_ he must have more talents than one or two, and with us a fat face is an evidence of diplomacy."

"How so?"

"Why we are sometimes exceedingly pushed for provisions. You must know that in a climate so sultry as mine, it is frequently impossible to keep a spirit alive for more than two or three hours; and after death, unless pickled immediately, (and a pickled spirit is _not_ good,) they will--smell--you understand, eh? Putrefaction is always to be apprehended when the spirits are consigned to us in the usual way."

"Hiccup!--hiccup!--good God! how _do_ you manage?"

Here the iron lamp commenced swinging with redoubled violence, and the devil half started from his seat--however with a slight sigh he recovered his composure, merely saying to our hero in a low tone, "I tell you what, Pierre Bon-Bon, we _must_ have no more swearing."

Bon-Bon swallowed another bumper, and his visiter continued.

"Why there are _several_ ways of managing. The most of us starve: some put up with the pickle. For my part I purchase my spirits _vivente corpore_, in which case I find they keep very well."

"But the body!--hiccup!--the body!!!"--vociferated the philosopher, as he finished a bottle of Sauterne.

"The body, the body--well what of the body?--oh! ah! I perceive. Why, sir, the body is not _at all_ affected by the transaction. I have made innumerable purchases of the kind in my day, and the parties never experienced any inconvenience. There were Cain, and Nimrod, and Nero, and Caligula, and Dionysius, and Pisistratus, and--and a thousand others, who never knew what it was to have a soul during the latter part of their lives; yet, sir, these men adorned society. Why is'nt there A----, now, whom you know as well as I? Is _he_ not in possession of all his faculties, mental and corporeal? Who writes a keener epigram? Who reasons more wittily? Who----but, stay! I have his agreement in my pocket-book."

Thus saying he produced a red leather wallet, and took from it a number of papers. Upon some of these Bon-Bon caught a glimpse of the letters MACHI----, MAZA----, RICH----, and the words CALIGULA and ELIZABETH. His majesty selected a narrow slip of parchment, and from it read aloud the following words:

"In consideration of certain mental endowments which it is unnecessary to specify; and in farther {698} consideration of one thousand _louis d'or_, I, being aged one year and one month, do hereby make over to the bearer of this agreement all my right, title, and appurtenance in the shadow called my soul." (Signed) A----[2] (Here his majesty repeated a name which I do not feel myself justifiable in indicating more unequivocally.)

[Footnote 2: Quære--Arouet?--_Editor_.]

"A clever fellow that A----"--resumed he; "but like you, Monsieur Bon-Bon, he was mistaken about the soul. The soul a shadow truly!--no such nonsense, Monsieur Bon-Bon. The soul a shadow!! ha! ha! ha!--he! he! he!--hu! hu! hu! Only think of a fricasséed shadow!"

"_Only_ think--hiccup!--of a f-r-i-c-a-s-s-e-e-d s-h-a-d-ow!!" echoed our hero, whose faculties were becoming gloriously illuminated by the profundity of his majesty's discourse.

"Only think of a--hiccup!--fricasseed shadow!!! Now damme!--hiccup!--humph!--if _I_ would have been such a--hiccup!--nincompoop! _My_ soul, Mr.--humph!"

"_Your_ soul, Monsieur Bon-Bon?"

"Yes, sir--hiccup!--_my_ soul is"--

"What, sir!"

"_No_ shadow, damme!"

"Did not mean to say"--

"Yes, sir, _my_ soul is--hiccup!--humph!--yes, sir."

"Did not intend to assert"--

"_My_ soul is--hiccup!--peculiarly qualified for--hiccup!--a"--

"What, sir?"

"Stew."

"Ha!"

"Souflée."

"Eh?"

"Fricassée."

"Indeed!"

"Ragout or Fricandeau--and I'll let you have it--hiccup!--a bargain."

"Could'nt think of such a thing," said his majesty calmly, at the same time arising from his seat. The metaphysician stared.

"Am supplied at present," said his majesty.

"Hiccup!--e-h?"--said the philosopher.

"Have no funds on hand."

"What!"

"Besides, very ungentlemanly in me"--

"Sir!"

"To take advantage of"--

"Hiccup!"

"Your present situation."

Here his majesty bowed and withdrew--in what manner the philosopher could not precisely ascertain--but in a well-concerted effort to discharge a bottle at "the villain," the slender chain was severed that depended from the ceiling, and the metaphysician prostrated by the downfall of the lamp.

THE UNITIES.

Aristotle's name is supposed to be authority for the three unities. The only one of which he speaks decisively is the unity of action. With regard to the unity of time he merely throws out an indefinite hint. Of the unity of place not one word does he say.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

LINES IN REMEMBRANCE OF THOS. H. WHITE,

Who died in Richmond, Va. October 7, 1832, aged 19 years.

When nations prosper, they grow proud and vain,
And give the reins to luxury and pleasure,
Spurn their Creator and defy his power:
To check their pride, Jehovah from his throne,
Scatters his judgments o'er a guilty world.
Forth from that idol land, where on the Ganges,
The Mother to false Gods devotes her offspring,
Or mounts the funeral pile--o'er half the earth
Speedeth the Pestilence. Nor cold, nor heat,
Mountains nor seasons can its course arrest.
Realm after realm hath bowed beneath its power,
Till o'er the vast Atlantic to our shores
It brings the work of death. In early life
I fell a victim to this deadly foe.
Thanks to that blessed volume, which hath brought
Light, Life and Immortality to Man,
Death has no terror to the heir of heaven--
It is the portal to his Father's throne.
This world is full of care, and toil, and suff'ring;
Its joys are transient, vain and fleeting all,
Illusive as a shadow. Happy he
At peace with God, who quits it earliest
For purer bliss. Rather rejoice than mourn
That I so soon have earth exchanged for heaven.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

A MANIAC'S ADDRESS TO THE MOON.

Thou pale!--thou beautiful!--to thee I kneel,
Watching thy wandering thro' yon dark blue sky
In silent gaze--as if my heart could feel
Deep adoration for thee, and was nigh
To a bright being that had look'd on me
Ev'n from the first days of my infancy.

Is it not so? Near to those yellow shores
Where roll my native streams, oh! hast thou not
Seen my young pleasures, when our busy oars
O'er the cool wave at dusky night would sport
On that bright pathway where thy silvery beam
Fell beautiful upon the glossy stream.

When thou didst rise at evening's twilight hour,
A mighty crescent o'er the broken tower,
Then would I wander 'neath the crumbling wall,
Or chase my playmates thro' the ruined hall,
Nor fearing any Spectre-Knight would play
His frightful gambols in thy harmless ray.

Away--away!--and when we there did sweep
The deep black billows of the roaring ocean,
Still high amid the heavens thou didst keep
Steady and bright; and with a wild emotion
Guiarra trembling did look up to thee
To guide him safely o'er that dismal sea,
And kindly light his weary hands to spread
The rattling canvass o'er his giddy head.

These skies are foreign, and I tread the ground
My fathers saw not: yet while thou art flinging
Upon the hills, the woods, the vales around
Thy gentle beam, ev'n though my heart be clinging {699}
To other lands, still it can hold most dear
This stranger home since it can meet thee here.

We'll climb yon hill--we'll wander o'er yon plain--
We'll skim yon lake: Moon! we will roam together
Till mother earth call home her child again:
Then part we!--part we! fair Moon!--aye, for ever!
'Tis not for a bright thing like thee to glow
In the deep shades where the departed go.

Yet thou canst look upon the road that leads
To my far dwelling place: there will be flowers
And fresh green blades, and moss, and harmless weeds
To point the passage. Oh! at midnight hours
Wilt thou not smile upon those things that bloom
All wild, all heedlessly above my tomb?

I sit, and weave beneath thy gentle light
A wreath of cypress and of roses bright,
And ere it wither, or its glow be fled,
I'll gaily bind it round my dying head.
'Twill still the throbbing of my fever'd brow
To wear those flowers pluck'd from the tender stem
Where they were springing beautiful--and thou
As beautiful wast shining above _them_.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TO AN INFANT NEPHEW IN ENGLAND.

By the late Mrs. ANN ROY, of Mathews county, Virginia.

Tho' Ocean's _pride_ be thy home, my boy,
I have heard thy laugh of infant joy;
Tho' Albion's breezes fan thy rest,
I have seen thee smile on thy mother's breast.

Like the forms that float in the summer heaven,
Fair Fancy's dreams have often given
Thy cherub beauty to my sight
Than those fairy tints more soft, more bright.

Yes, I have watched in sleep thine eye,
More darkly blue than the starlit sky,
By thy fringed lids now hid--now beaming
Like harebells mid a snow-wreath gleaming.

And I've longed thy ruby lip to press,
And I've sighed thy sunny brow to bless,
And to teach thee thy father's land to love,
So come o'er the wave, my island dove!

For here the sun doth brightly beam
Mid the feathery foam of the mountain stream,
And o'er the lake's clear beautiful face,
The dark trees bend with a shadowy grace.

And in rosy bowers the Eglantine
With the golden blossoms of Jasmine twine,
And the fruits and flowers wear a brighter hue,
And the heavens look on us more cloudlessly blue;

And from each hearth at the quiet even,
The voice of prayer ascends to heaven;
And the wild birds carol with joyous glee,
In our own fair land of the happy and free.

Come list to the music of every rill,
Which sends through our bosoms a magical thrill;
Dream not of the depths of the dark blue sea,
For the heavens will surely smile on thee.

Sweet scion of Columbia's race,
Come to thy kindred's fond embrace!
Come to the land once thy parents home,
Never again from her shores to roam!

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

LINES.

BY ALEX. LACEY BEARD.

O! there are many brilliant things
To light this darksome life,
And many bright imaginings
With wild enjoyment rife.
The flashing of the sparkling stream--
The billows bounding free--
The glittering of the sunny beam
Upon the dark green sea.
The lightning flash that rends the air--
The meteor's dazzling light
That fiercely gleams with fitful glare
Amid the starless night.

And there are many lovely things
That grace the smiling earth--
The gushing of a thousand springs--
The laughing streamlet's mirth--
The swift deer bounding through the wood--
The merry singing bird;--
Its sweet tones in the solitude
Of lonely forests heard.
The greenwood and the grassy plain--
The silent mountain glen
Where nature sways her wild domain,
Far from the haunts of men.

The mountain where the cedars high
Bend to the passing breeze--
The murm'ring pines that softly sigh--
The music of the trees--
The sparkling dew-drop on the grass--
The river's golden sand--
The flitting of the shades which pass
In grandeur o'er the land.
The whippoorwill's sad cry at night,
Heard from some lonely dell--
The streaming of the pale moonlight,
Old nature's magic spell.

The rainbow's arch that spans the sky--
The shining stars above--
The glancing of a kindling eye--
The tones of one we love.
The glowing kiss all fondly pressed
On lips both warm and true--
The beating of a tender breast,
Which only throbs for you.
These gild with sunshine and delight
The paths of life, and throw
Upon its darkling streams a bright,
And never fading glow.

By what _bizzarrerie_ does it happen that Sardanapalus is discovered in Greek literature under the name of Tenos Concoleros?

{700}

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

EXTRACTS FROM MY MEXICAN JOURNAL.

Visit to Tescuco--Bath of Tescusingo--Otumba--Aqueduct of Zempoala--Agave Americana--Pyramids of Teotihuacán.

DECEMBER 25, 1825. Mr. P. and myself left Mexico at half past nine this morning for _Tescuco_. We travelled in a Mexican coach, equipped in the usual style, and loaded with the usual encumbrances of beds, &c. Following the road which leads towards _Vera Cruz_ as far as the little Indian town of _Los Reyes_, we there left it to cross the dry bed of the lake of _Tescuco_, upon the border of which we had been riding, to the small village of _La Magdalena_; and soon reached a pretty and well cultivated country, strewed thickly with villages and farmhouses (_haciendas_). After passing Chiquluapa and Quautlalpa, we again were in view of the lake, which an intervening ridge had intercepted. On the left, less than a league from Tescuco, is the fine _hacienda_ of Chapingo, owned by the Marquis of Vivanco. Between this and the town, we passed what is called "El puente de los Bergantines"--a pile of strongly cemented stone, through which the road is cut, presenting not the slightest resemblance to a bridge. But this is classic ground, for here Cortes is said to have launched his vessels into the lake upon that memorable occasion which preceded the destruction and capture of the seat of the Mexican Empire. On entering a place so celebrated in the histories of the Conquest, the wretched adobe-built houses near the gate of the town, might well diminish the enthusiasm of the traveller and the antiquarian, were not his attention caught by a large artificial pile, now in ruins, without the gate to the right. Every thing connected with this remarkable people is interesting, even although the remaining vestiges are too slight to enable one to trace them distinctly and satisfactorily. Such is the nature of this ruin; but the presumption may not be altogether unfounded, that this was the site of an ancient temple, and perhaps the centre of this once great city.

We arrived at two o'clock, the distance from Mexico being seven leagues by the route we were obliged to travel, but only five across the lake. After an introduction to the ladies of the house, to which we had been kindly invited, we were conducted to the cock-pit, where we were presented to our host. We found it filled with men, women, and children, all taking a lively interest in the scene; but as we were less ardent sportsmen, we soon left the place, eager to commence our rambles in search of antiquities.

We were directed first to the Aduana--custom house--in the _patio_ or court of which lay a coiled rattlesnake, tolerably well sculptured out of a block of gray porphyry--its head, however, appeared disproportionally large. It still wears the mark of paint, although it has been exposed many years to the weather. Several other figures were shown to us--one a female with a finely turned shoulder--another was the arms of Spain, made probably shortly after the conquest--the rest were imperfect. Thence we were conducted to a house, outside the door of which was planted for a seat, a part of a human figure, of large size. In the degraded position it occupied, we could form no opinion of its excellence.

Thence we strolled to what is called the palace of the Tescucan kings. Its site fills the western side of the _Plaza_. Traces of its great extent are every where visible, but not clearly defined, for the ground it covered has been long cultivated, and a part of it is planted in _magueyes_. Several large stones still retain the position they must have occupied in the edifice--those which no doubt formed a corner, being squared and cut nicely, in a manner which would not be discreditable to the workmen of the present day in Mexico. At regular distances of about fifteen feet were placed others, the upper surfaces of which are rounded irregularly. In an excavation distant a few paces is a portion of a column, so covered that we could not discover its dimensions. If a conjecture can be hazarded, these stones were parts of corridors, supported by stone columns--possibly an excavation may disclose apartments below. It is, however, futile to form plans upon such insufficient data. The cutting of a ditch through the western section of the ruins, has exposed to view stones curiously scooped out, as if for the use of the founder; and near the centre of the square is another of a different figure, cut apparently for the same purpose--perhaps to mould a kettle which should rest on three corners or feet--the bottom hollowed. We continued our investigations until nearly dark, when we walked to the church of _San Francisco_, near by, in the pavement before the door of which, are several of these anciently wrought stones--some of very large dimensions--one is circular with a carved surface, but so much worn that we could not trace its figures.

The walls of the fortress which Cortes is represented to have constructed for his quarters, were next shown to us. Their height is about twenty feet--their width at the base about six or seven, decreasing towards the top. Some pronounce this the work of a more remote age, but the manner of its construction is sufficient evidence to the contrary. That it is a work of the Conqueror is a more reasonable conjecture, though even this is beset with difficulties. The time Cortes is said to have occupied the city of _Tescuco_, appears too short to have completed so huge a building: to this, however, it may be said, that he possessed ample means, with so many thousand Indians under his orders. But where was the necessity of raising such strong walls against adversaries so feeble, when, without so much severe labor, he {701} might have defended himself equally well, and in the event of his being compelled to abandon it, he would have encountered less difficulty in recovering possession of it?

Thence we proceeded some distance--the moon shone brightly--to see other remains of an ancient structure, but being unsuccessful in our search, we returned to the house of our kind friends, the Camperos.

The town of _Tescuco_ now contains about 5,000 inhabitants--the houses are of one story only--with regular but unpaved streets, not very neat. Its modern mediocrity must contrast strongly with its ancient magnificence, if the early historians of Mexico are to be credited. During the revolution a ditch was dug around it, in order to repel the attacks of cavalry. It was assailed several times, and suffered some injury. It is by no means a pretty town, but is situated amid a pretty country, and supplied with good water.

DEC. 26. We appointed to-day to visit the mountain of _Tescusingo_. Before setting out, we made another circuit about the town, and found on a wall in front of one of the churches, a circular stone, the circumference of which was curiously carved. Near the northwestern corner of the _Plaza_ is a well constructed arch of _tetzontli_, cemented with lime, which had been discovered in opening a ditch--the extent and purpose of it are alike unknown. We next visited the house of the Most Holy Trinity, La Casa de la Santissima Trinidad, to examine an arch of stone, said to have been taken from the ruins of the palace. Its figure is beautiful--the whole is well wrought--and would do credit to any edifice. If an antique, of which there seems very little doubt, it proves beyond any thing I have yet seen, the civilized state which the Indians of Mexico had attained prior to the conquest. The arch of three pieces, and four stones which support it, believed to have once formed a portal in the palace, are perfect. The latter now are the sides of an entrance to a stable, the arch lies neglected in the yard--two stones are wanting to complete the supports to the arch.

We continued our walk to the ruins of an extensive building, upon which are growing numerous plants of the _maguey_. The layers of cement are seen distinctly--very smooth and hard. An old woman who lives near, has collected large pieces of this cement with which she has paved the _patio_ of her house; so solid is it, that one of our companions believed it to be stone, until he had tested it with the hammer.

At eleven o'clock we set out in our coach for the mountain distant near two leagues to the eastward of _Tescuco_. About a quarter of a mile from the town, we observed two circular carved stones which we had not time to examine. After riding a league over the plain, we stopped at the Molino de las Flores--mill of flowers--a most romantic spot. Great labor has been expended upon the race for conducting the water to the mill from the natural dam of rocks, over which the stream during the rainy season, dashes in torrents into a rugged bed. The plain from thence to the foot of the mountain being broken by deep _barrancas_--gullies--our carriage was unable to proceed farther. We were, therefore, compelled to walk, against our inclinations, for the sun was scorching, and we were aware of the labor we must encounter in the ascent of the mountain.

A walk of two miles brought us to the foot of the mountain of Tescusingo, the steep sides of which covered with _nopal_,[1] we began to climb slowly. After winding about midway up on the western side, our guide conducted us to the mouth of an apparently artificial cavern, with an entrance about six feet high--descending a dozen steps it takes a new direction. Having no lights we were obliged to leave it unexplored. Continuing to ascend, we passed towards the southern declivity, and soon met with cement, which in various parts of the mountain denotes extensive remains of ancient edifices--with walls constructed of _tetzontli_--and particularly with a large square stone hollowed neatly like a drain; and a reservoir for water appeared to have existed below it. We were now about three-fourths of the distance up the mountain, and had attained a terrace, along which we walked to the _Bath of Tescusingo_--the chief object of our visit. This remarkable work is cut out of a solid rock--hard feldspar porphyry--which hangs like a bird's nest upon the steep side, which faces to the south. An irregular platform of seven feet and a half diameter appears to have been first cut into the rock--the sides of the rock forming a wall smooth on the inside, nearly two feet and a half high, the outside left as nature made it--in the centre of this platform a circular bath is cut out, with a diameter of four feet seven inches, two feet deep, with two steps to descend into it. A perforation in one part of the platform shows where the water was admitted, and it escaped from the bath by a cleft which extends from top to bottom. The bath was probably covered with a roof--cavities in the rock seeming to indicate where posts once stood.

[Footnote 1: _Nopal_, a species of cactus.]

The view from this spot is the most beautiful that could have been selected on the mountain; and warmed by the sun, and sheltered from the winds of the north, it was, also, the most delightful. The city of Mexico is seen distinctly, the lake of _Tescuco_ and populous plains intervening, in the southwest; and to the south rise the snowy mountains of _Puebla_.

From the bath, we continued our walk along the terrace, upon which still exist traces of an aqueduct, which, at the eastern extremity of {702} _Tescusingo_, crossed from the contiguous mountain upon an artificial pile of stone, conveying water, we were informed, a distance of seven or eight leagues. We were yet several hundred feet from the top. Ascending farther, we encountered other remains of structures, and came to a levelled surface about fifty feet square. All these are convincing proofs of the numerous edifices which once existed upon this mountain, but we must ever remain ignorant of their nature and purpose. Upon the summit, which commands a fine view of the surrounding country, is a rock of huge size, in which seats have been cut.

In our descent on the northern side, which is very rough and steep, we discovered accidentally a flight of seven steps cut out of a single rock--of these, our guide, an Indian antiquarian of _Tescuco_, had heretofore been ignorant. Many objects worthy of investigation will no doubt reward those who should diligently extend their researches upon the mountain of _Tescusingo_. We reached the foot without further incident, and rejoined our carriage at the mill, much fatigued with our ramble under a burning sun. Soon after four we were again under the roof of our kind host.

After dinner, our friend, Don Nicolas Campero, conducted us to the ruins which I have already mentioned to be just without the gate of the town. Their structure and extent are marked by the revolutionary trenches which surround them. The occasional layers of cement are perpendicular as well as horizontal, and between them are laid _adobes_--unburnt bricks--which compose the work. Judging from appearances, it would not be rash, perhaps, to conjecture that this was the site of the Great Temple, which, we are assured, was always constructed upon eminences like this. Its distance from the palace amply proves the extent of the ancient city of _Tescuco_ to have been very great.

DEC. 27. After breakfast, we rode a league to see the _ahuahuetes_[2]--cypress trees--of large dimensions, some of them are not less than fifty feet in circumference. A large edifice, it is believed, stood once in the midst of them. There are traces of buildings. The regularity with which these trees are disposed, proves, beyond a doubt, that they were planted. They are so regular, that in order to enclose three sides of a square it was necessary to lay a few _adobes_ only between them. Two rows of these trees form a long street. This grove of _ahuahuetes_ is seen distinctly from the city of Mexico, their deep green contrasting strongly with the dry and open plain which surrounds them.

[Footnote 2: _Cupressus disticha_. The largest tree known of this description is at the village of Atlixco, in the state of Puebla. It is in circumference 23.3 metres, or 76½ English feet.--_Humb. New Spain_, _l. 3. c. 8, p. 154. Ed. of 1827_.]

We employed the afternoon in revisiting the antiquities of _Tescuco_. We were also conducted to the garden belonging to the convent of San Francisco, where a remarkable carved stone lies neglected under a tree. It is round and represents a man, whose nose is prodigious, in a kneeling attitude, holding something--what it is we could not discover--in his hands; behind him is another figure, which defied all our efforts to decipher it.

At night, we accompanied the young ladies of the house to a ball given by the principal merchant of the town. The room was filled with men, women, and cigar smoke. This compelled us to make an early retreat, for our eyes were not yet insensible to its effect.

DEC. 28. After an early breakfast, and the completion of some repairs to our coach, we took leave of the excellent family who had entertained us most hospitably. We now directed our steps towards _Otumba_. Passing several small villages--some of them are very picturesque, with their enclosures of the _cactus cylindricus_, which grows to the height of fifteen or eighteen feet--the country became barren and uninteresting, until we reached the fine hacienda of _San Antonio_. Here we deviated from the direct route, but were compensated for the loss of time by the sight of an extensive stone wall, built to contain water for the purpose of irrigating the estate, and for the use of the cattle. This large _presa_--or pond--was the work of the Jesuits, who formerly owned the finest property in New Spain, and who were sagacious and industrious in improving their possessions. Retracing our steps, we passed the extensive buildings of _San Antonio_, leaving immediately upon our left its beautiful wheat fields, which the laborers were then engaged in watering. This is the dry season, and wheat will grow only where it can be irrigated frequently.

Beyond the village of _San Pedro_, we ascended the _tepetate_[3] lomes--_lomas_--of the eastern side of the plain of Mexico, upon which soil the roads are always worn deep and rough. On arriving at the summit of a low ridge which we were crossing, the Pyramids of Teotihuacán unexpectedly presented themselves to our view. Though ignorant that we were so near to them, yet we could not mistake them, their figure is still so well preserved, whilst centuries have rolled away since their construction.

[Footnote 3: A hard white clay peculiar to the plains of Mexico, devoid of vegetation, and very painful to the eyes under a burning sun. The _lomas_ are the rising ground between the plains and the mountains.]

Leaving the pyramids and village of San Juan de Teotihuacán to our left, we travelled on two leagues farther to _Otumba_, where we arrived at three o'clock, having been six hours on the road from _Tescuco_. We were told the distance was only seven leagues. It is true we once lost our way, and our kicking mules occasioned some {703} detention, but I think another league may be safely added.

A gentleman of _Otumba_, to whom we had brought a letter of introduction, being unfortunately absent, we were directed to the only _meson_--public house--in the place, where we took a hasty meal in the kitchen, having, in the mean time, sent our letter to the gentleman's brother, who might, we thought, aid us in our research for antiquities. But this man sent us an uncourteous answer, and we sallied out in quest of the curate, who was absent also; but we found what perhaps was better--a remnant of an ancient column in the churchyard. We met a well dressed man, from whom we expected to glean some information. He proved to be a stupid lay-priest, who knew nothing of the existence of any antique in _Otumba_, but he undertook to inquire at a store near the _plaza_. Those he asked were as ignorant as himself; but our foreign appearance having by this time excited some curiosity, several of the inhabitants collected around us, and learning our wish to find an ancient column which we understood to exist there, conducted us to the centre of the _plaza_, where the object of our search was lying prostrate. It is a column of reddish sand stone, the base, and a portion of the shaft only remaining, the entire length of which is eight feet two inches. The shaft is an octagon of unequal sides, and carved with diamond figures interchained with each other. The lower part of the shaft, one foot and a half next the base, is of a bulbous figure, also carved. The diameter of the column is one foot and three quarters. In another spot, a cleft fragment was shown, seven feet two inches long, said to have formed a part of the column above described--if so, augmenting its entire length to fifteen and a half feet, without the capital, of which we could discover no traces. We were told that this column, previously to the revolution, was standing in the _plaza_, supporting the arms of Spain. During the war it was thrown down--has been broken for various purposes, and its remains now lie neglected, an object of interest to the curious traveller only.

All our new friends now volunteered to show us something, and we had nearly seen nothing in the contest of each to carry us to different places. At length, we effected a compromise, and were carried to search a _corral_ or cattle yard for the capital of the column. We looked in vain in yard and stable, notwithstanding one present assured us he had seen it. We abandoned the pursuit of the evanescent block, and were conducted by an old man (who was called Cortés, and who affected to be of pure Indian blood, and to despise all others who were not,) to his house, in a corner of which was worked a carved stone--evidently an antique, but it was a work posterior to the conquest, for it represented an armed man on horseback. Cortés then carried us to the rear of the church, to see another carved stone, but it was placed so high in the wall that we could scarcely distinguish it, but enough appeared to convince us that it bore the arms of Spain. These instances prove how cautious we must be in adopting the opinions of the natives on antiquarian matters.

It was now dark, and we returned to our _meson_, as miserable and cheerless a house of entertainment as traveller ever entered. We made, nevertheless, a good supper of eggs, _frijoles_ (beans), and wine, of which we partook in the kitchen.

On making inquiries respecting a celebrated aqueduct which we understood to exist in the vicinity of _Otumba_, we learned that it was distant nearly five leagues. We had intended to return to Mexico on the morrow, but we now determined to visit this work. During the evening, one of our lately formed acquaintances called to introduce one of his friends, who politely offered us horses, a favor which we gladly accepted.

DEC. 29. We rose early, and joined by three of our new acquaintances, were soon on horseback. One of those who attended us, was manager of two fine _haciendas_, which we visited on our way to the arches of Zempoala. The first, Soapayuca, owned by the _Conde de Tepa_, a Spanish nobleman, is about a league from _Otumba_. Having been burnt during the revolution it has been rebuilt on an extensive scale. Our road ran along the _lomes_ of the mountains, through fields of the _maguey_. About two leagues and a half from _Otumba_, we were shown, on our left, the plain of _San Miguel_, where Cortes is represented to have gained his celebrated victory, in the retreat from Mexico to _Tlascala_. A ride of three leagues brought us to the _hacienda_ of _Ometusco_--an estate from which _pulque_ only is made, which gives to its owner, Don Ignacio Adalid, of Mexico, a nett profit, as we were informed, of $15,000 a year. Here we took breakfast, and after viewing the buildings, pursued a narrow path through the _magueyes_ to the _Arcos de Zempoala_.

These arches are sixty-eight in number, crossing a deep valley from north to south, and are eleven hundred paces in length. The greatest height is one hundred twenty-two and a half feet, where two arches, one supported above the other, are thrown across the deep _barranca_. The width above is four feet and a half, with a narrow, and shallow channel in the centre for the conveyance of the water. This is a work of great antiquity, constructed about the year 1540, under the direction of a Franciscan Monk, to supply Otumba with good water, of which it is sadly in want. Though made at an immense expense, the aqueduct is now wholly useless, but the arches are in an excellent state of preservation.[4]

[Footnote 4: Torquemada relates--Monarquia Indiana, l. 20, c. 63--that a Franciscan Friar, Francisco de Tembleque, undertook and accomplished this work, achieving an exploit "which great and powerful kings would scarcely have undertaken to accomplish, nor would he have engaged in such a work (although the poet says, fortune favors the bold) if he had not been inspired by heaven, and aided especially by divine grace, which overcomes all obstacles and provides the means of easily surmounting the greatest difficulties." The time taken to execute this work was 16 or 17 years, five of which were consumed on the principal arches; "which," our author says, "may be regarded as one of the wonders of the world." According to his statement, there are sixty-seven arches (we counted sixty-eight) extending 1059½ _varas_--about 975 yards. The middle arch is 42½ _varas_, about 118 feet high--and 23½ _varas_, about 21½ yards wide, "which fills with astonishment and wonder those who see so marvellous a work." There are two other ravines, one crossed by thirteen the other by forty-six arches. The entire length of the aqueduct was 160,496 Spanish feet--more than fifteen leagues. Torquemada gives no dates, but this work appears to have been constructed soon after Tembleque arrived from Spain, which was in 1538; and our author mentions, that though built seventy years (he wrote about 1610 or 12) it had not sustained the smallest injury.

As a specimen of Torquemada's credulity, I extract the following "most pure truth"--_purisma verdad_. He says that "the good Father Francisco de Tembleque, had no other companion during this long and painful work than a large yellow cat, which hunted in the fields by night, and at daybreak brought to his master the fruits of his hunt, hares or partridges, for the day's subsistence, which may seem incredible, but it is a most pure truth: many clergy witnessed this wonderful thing, who, passing by, stopped at the hermitage at night for the sole purpose of seeing the fact, and of convincing themselves of the care of the cat, for it was commonly reported through the land, how he sustained himself and his master."]

{704} After taking a rough measurement of this magnificent work, we retraced our steps to the _hacienda_ of Ometusco, where our kind host showed us the entire process of making _pulque_. A good plant of the _Agave_,[5] under the most favorable circumstances, reaches maturity in eight years. This state is indicated by a disposition in the central leaves to throw up a stalk, which, when permitted to grow, rises to the height of twelve or fourteen feet, branching at the top not unlike a chandelier. In this critical state a large incision is made with a sharp iron bar in the heart; a large basin, as it were, is scooped out with much care, and being then filled with dry leaves or rubbish, is permitted to rest unmolested for about six months, when it begins to yield juice in abundance and of good quality. On being taken from the plant, which operation an Indian performs morning and evening with a long gourd acting as a syphon, the _agua miel_, or honey water, as it is then called, is of a sickening sweetness; but after being poured into large vats--made of untanned hides, with the hair inside--in one week it effervesces; but when poured, as in common, upon the lees of old _pulque_, it is prepared in one or two days, and is carried to market in hogs' skins. After yielding during six months, from 200 to 250 gallons, and sometimes more, the plant dies, and a young sucker is planted to succeed it. A plant ready to yield, is worth from eight to twelve dollars, and produces three or four _cargas_, or mule loads: a _carga_ is sold in market at four dollars.

[Footnote 5: The American aloe.]

_Pulque_ is intoxicating to those who use it too freely. The taste is far from pleasant to me, and the odor of it is sickening; but it improves with use, and when taken moderately is thought to be wholesome.

The _Agave Americana_ is a most valuable plant. Independently of its agricultural profits upon barren soils where little else would grow, it serves a great variety of uses. From _pulque_, a strong brandy is distilled. This and _pulque_ are the common drink of the people. The fibres of the leaf of the _maguey_ are manufactured into coarse cloths, which are used for bagging, as saddlecloths, and for the _aparejos_, packsaddles; they form thread of every texture, twine, and rope of the largest size; and the juice of the leaf is efficacious in the cure of ulcers, especially of the galls and sores of brute animals: the leaf itself acts in place of gutters and spouts for the cabins of the Indians, and makes a roof to their rude dwellings: its prickle or thorn, is a needle in case of necessity; and at certain stages of its growth the _maguey_ may be taken as food, and was so used during the revolution by many hungry wanderers.

Thus this plant may be the food, drink, and clothing of the Mexicans; and from the variety of purposes to which it may be applied, the _Agave Americana_ may safely be said to be the most valuable of the vegetable creation.

It was dark when we returned to our lodgings in _Otumba_, having consumed the whole day in seeing what we might have accomplished in a few hours; but our friends were so polite, that we were obliged to submit to their dilatory movements.

DEC. 30. Provided again with horses, we set out at an early hour for the Pyramids, leaving our carriage to join us at _San Juan de Teotihuacan_. After a ride of nearly two leagues, we alighted at the foot of the smaller pyramid, which, although the ascent was steep, rough, and overgrown with weeds, we soon surmounted. This, more dilapidated than the larger one, still preserves its pyramidal shape, so as easily to be distinguished. The construction seems to be of stones thrown indiscriminately together, and, at occasional intervals, a layer of lime crosses it horizontally. Upon its summit are the remains of a small stone building, which bears abundant evidence of being the work of the {705} Conquerors. It was probably a chapel, built to fill the place of the temple which it usurped. At the southern foot of this pyramid is a circle surrounded either by diminutive pyramids, or by the ruins of small edifices, or perhaps both intermingled. Near the centre of this circle is a similar ruin, from which proceeds a regular street forty or fifty feet wide, running north and south, and bounded on both sides by ruins of apparently small pyramids, on which are distinct traces of the walls of houses divided into small apartments. At the head of the street is a large rough stone, with a circle sculptured on one side of it; beyond the wall of this circle, on the west, we were shown a singularly cut stone of large size. It is ten feet three inches long, five feet one inch wide, and four feet five inches high above the ground, in which it seems partly buried. We collected every where various wrought pieces of obsidian.

The larger pyramid is a little distant from the street to the east of it. As our time was limited I ascended it hastily, and found that, except in size it differs only in one respect from the other: about midway a terrace extends around it. The faces of both pyramids correspond with the four points of the compass. The view from them extends over the lake of _Tescuco_ to the city of Mexico, and beyond the western barrier of the plain to the snow-capped mountain of _Toluca_.

The large pyramid of _Teotihuacan_ is called _Tonatiuh Ytzaqual_, or House of the Sun. According to _Oteyza's_ measurements[6] its base is 208 metres--682½ English feet--its perpendicular height is 55 metres--180.4 feet. The base of the other pyramid is much less than that of the former. This is called _Mextli Ytzaqual_, or House of the Moon: its height is 144.4 feet.

[Footnote 6: Humb. T. 2. l. 3. c. 8. p. 66.]

The construction of these pyramids is ascribed to the _Tolteck_ nation, in which event they were built in the eighth or ninth century.[7] It has been asserted that these and the other Mexican Pyramids are hollow; but as far as investigations have been carried, their solidity seems established. Constructed as they are, if they were hollow the destructive influence of so many centuries which have elapsed since their erection, would have discovered it. The supposition is equally ill-founded that they are mere casings or crusts to natural eminences. So far as rains have laid them open, or the hand of man exposed to view their interior, all is artificial. It is idle to argue that if they were completely artificial, the materials which form them must have been dug from some contiguous spot, and that this has no where been discovered. Places are seen from which the materials have been collected; and the circumjacent plain is strewed thickly with _tetzontli_, quite abundant enough to build other pyramids, without being reduced to the necessity of digging into the earth.

[Footnote 7: Humb. T. 2. l. 3. c. 8. p. 67.]

At _San Juan_, about half a league from the pyramids, we rejoined our carriage, and at 11 A. M. set out for Mexico, distant ten leagues. We travelled rapidly over a dreary but not a bad road, and passing _Tololcingo_, crossed the dry bed of the lake of _Tescuco_, shortening our ride a league or so. At a _venta_, or small inn, near _Santa Clara_, we had the good fortune to meet with an idol, dug up in the vicinity, which we bought; it represents a naked female, her hands crossing her breast, her nose of prodigious size, and hair plaited down the back. The figure is about two feet high.[8]

[Footnote 8: This idol was sent to the museum of the college at Charleston, S. C.]

We arrived at _Guadalupe_ at 3 P. M. and an hour's ride over a good _calzada_, bordered with pretty aspins, brought us to the capital. Our jaunt has been very delightful, and we have met with great kindness. From what we have seen of the antiquities of Mexico, we are impressed with a far more favorable opinion than we had entertained of the civilized state of the Indians before the Conquest.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

MR. WHITE:

The subjoined copy of an old Scotch ballad, contains so much of the beauty and genuine spirit of by-gone poetry, that I have determined to risk a frown from the fair lady by whom the copy was furnished, in submitting it for publication. The ladies sometimes violate their promises--may I not for once assume their privilege, in presenting to the readers of the Messenger this "legend of the olden time," although _I promised not_? Relying on the kind heart of the lady for forgiveness for _this breach of promise_, I have anticipated the pardon in sending you the lines, which I have never as yet seen in print.

SIDNEY.

BALLAD.

They have giv'n her to another--
They have sever'd ev'ry vow;
They have giv'n her to another,
And my heart is lonely now;
They remember'd not our parting--
They remember'd not our tears,
They have sever'd in one fatal hour
The tenderness of years.
Oh! was it weal to leave me?
Thou couldst not so deceive me;
Lang and sairly shall I grieve thee,
Lost, lost Rosabel!

They have giv'n thee to another--
Thou art now his gentle bride;
Had I lov'd thee as a brother,
I might see thee by his side;
But _I know with gold they won thee_,
And thy trusting heart beguil'd;
Thy _mother_ too, did shun me,
For she knew I lov'd her child. {706}
Oh! was it weal to leave me?
Thou couldst not so deceive me;
Lang and sairly shall I grieve thee,
Lost, lost Rosabel!

They have giv'n her to another--
She will love him, so they say;
If her mem'ry do not chide her,
Oh! perhaps, perhaps she may;
But I know that she hath spoken
What she never can forget;
And tho' my poor heart be broken,
It will love her, love her yet.
Oh! was it weal to leave me?
Thou couldst not so deceive me;
Lang and sairly shall I grieve thee,
Lost, lost Rosabel!

From the Baltimore Visiter.

THE COLISEUM. A PRIZE POEM.

BY EDGAR A. POE.

Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary
Of lofty contemplation left to Time
By buried centuries of pomp and power!
At length, at length--after so many days
Of weary pilgrimage, and burning thirst,
(Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie,)
I kneel, an altered, and an humble man,
Amid thy shadows, and so drink within
My very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and glory.

Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!
Silence and Desolation! and dim Night!
Gaunt vestibules! and phantom-peopled aisles!
I feel ye now: I feel ye in your strength!
O spells more sure than e'er Judæan king
Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane!
O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee
Ever drew down from out the quiet stars!

Here, where a hero fell, a column falls;
Here, where the mimic eagle glared in gold,
A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat:
Here, where the dames of Rome their yellow hair
Wav'd to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle:
Here, where on ivory couch the Cæsar sate,
On bed of moss lies gloating the foul adder:
Here, where on golden throne the monarch loll'd,
Glides spectre-like unto his marble home,
Lit by the wan light of the horned moon,
The swift and silent lizard of the stones.

These crumbling walls; these tottering arcades;
These mouldering plinths; these sad, and blacken'd shafts;
These vague entablatures; this broken frieze;
These shattered cornices; this wreck; this ruin;
These stones, alas!--these gray stones--are they all--
All of the great and the colossal left
By the corrosive hours to Fate and me?

"Not all,"--the echoes answer me; "not all:
Prophetic sounds, and loud, arise for ever
From us, and from all Ruin, unto the wise,
As in old days from Memnon to the sun.
We rule the hearts of mightiest men. We rule
With a despotic sway all giant minds.
We are not desolate--we pallid stones;
Not all our power is gone; not all our fame;
Not all the magic of our high renown;
Not all the wonder that encircles us;
Not all the mysteries that in us lie;
Not all the memories that hang upon,
And cling around about us as a garment,
Clothing us in a robe of more than glory."

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

LINES

Written in the Village of A----, Virginia.

Sweet village of the mountain glen!
Thy verdant shades are dear to me;
I shun the busy haunts of men,
And to thy peaceful bosom flee;
For smiling nature's summer home
Is found beside thy flashing rills,
And when the winter-tempests come,
She reigns upon thy rugged hills.

Upon thy rocks the tow'ring pine,
The hemlock and the cedar grow;
And high the wild and flow'ring vine,
Its tendrils round their branches throw.
'Tis sweet to stray thy paths along,
Beside some bright and rippling stream
Whose waters with a murm'ring song,
Glance gaily in the sunny beam.

Through distant lands my feet may roam,
In foreign climes my dwelling be,
Unchang'd where'er I make my home,
My heart will still abide with thee.
Yes! still with thee, in joy or woe,
On desert land, or stormy sea,
In pain or bliss, where'er I go,
My love will ever dwell with thee.

A. L. B.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

_Extracts from the Auto-biography of Pertinax Placid_.

MY FIRST NIGHT IN A WATCHHOUSE.

CHAP. II.

This was our hero's earliest scrape; but whether
I shall proceed with his adventures is
Dependent on the public altogether:
We'll see, however, what they say to this.
[_Don Juan_.

We found Fenella in much trouble. That buoyant mind which the vicissitudes of a changing and precarious profession could not sadden or subdue, proved itself vulnerable to the weapons of ridicule.

"And so, my young deserter, you have come at last. Here have I been grieving myself to death at the malice of Mc----, and you have felt no sympathy in my trouble, or have been too indolent or indifferent to give me one word of comfort. Shame on you! Is this your friendship?"

I made my excuses with the best grace I could assume, and assured her I had just learned the cause of her uneasiness. She readily believed me, for she was too sincere herself to doubt the sincerity of others.